Beginnings
by FadedPromise
Summary: Back story for my Lukeverse. Found these on my hard drive and thought I would share them.
1. Chapter 1

Doctor Lucien Blake watched Danny Parks escort the suspect from the flower shop where he had been purchasing highly poisonous flying duck orchids to use on his next victim. With the case now closed, Lucien took a moment to look around. Such a profusion of flowers could not help but remind him of his beautiful Jean. He frowned. She had been somewhat out of sorts when he left the house that morning, and he had wracked his brain trying to figure out what he had done this time. He would do anything in his power to make her happy, but he was all too aware that he could be thoughtless and arrogantly selfish at times.

He decided that he would apologize for whatever he had done, and a bouquet of flowers might help his cause. He walked back inside and quickly assured the proprietor that he was not there to further disrupt the man's business. "I'm just looking for some flowers for my wife," he insisted.

Mr. Glass took that as a personal challenge. "Well, now, Doctor, did you have anything specific in mind?" Jean Blake's green thumb was well-known, and putting together a bouquet to impress her was no easy task.

"I'll leave it up to your professional judgment," Lucien told him.

"And is it a special occasion, sir?"

"I seem to have done something to upset her, which I'm afraid is a regular occurrence," Lucien admitted. "So I need to show her how absolutely wonderful she is."

"I'll see what I can do."

The florist disappeared into his back room and emerged sometime later with an arrangement that even to Lucien's unpracticed eye looked spectacular.

"Perfect," he assured Mr. Glass, and he took out his wallet to settle the bill.

* * *

At home, Jean was putting together some cold meats and a salad for lunch. Lucien had promised he'd be home in time, and he had become much better at keeping such promises in the month since they'd returned from their honeymoon. She had decided she owed him an apology anyway, after how cross she'd been with him that morning. How was he to know she hadn't been feeling well when she'd assured him she was fine? Rather rudely, she could now admit.

She heard his car pull up to the house. He was actually early, which pleased her no end. Extra time alone with her handsome, loving husband. Maybe they could talk now instead of putting off the discussion until after dinner. She wasn't sure she could wait that long anyway. He would surely notice.

"Jean, love?" he called out as he closed the door and hung up his hat.

She wiped her hands on her apron then took it off, placed it over a chair back and went to greet him with a big smile.

When she saw the bouquet he held, tears welled in her eyes. Oh, how she loved this man!

He kissed her first, and she returned it eagerly. When they separated he wore a grin but raised a questioning eyebrow.

"I love you very much," she explained, "and I'm sorry I was so cross this morning."

"I was trying to recall what I'd done," he admitted.

"It was nothing you'd done," she began, then stopped. "Well, yes, it was something you'd done, but nothing bad. In fact it was good. Very, very good, actually."

She could see she had him totally confused now.

She set the flowers on the hall table and pulled him closer. "The nearest I can figure, you did it about six weeks ago, but you do it so often, that's only a guess. In fact, I'm hoping I can entice you to do it again tonight." She walked her fingers up his chest and further until she reached his cheek, where she rested her palm and pulled him close for another kiss.

Then the penny dropped. "Jean, my darling, are you trying to tell me..." His hands reached down to circle her waist, then smoothed forward to her lower abdomen. "Are you...?"

"Pregnant?" Her smile was brilliant as she nodded.

For a moment his mouth hung open, and then he pulled her into his arms and spun around joyously. He felt as though his heart might burst with all the love he had for this woman who had brought his world alive after so many years in bitter darkness. His life had been perfect, he thought, and now she was to give him this new gift.

"So you're happy about it?" she asked, although she had never really doubted he would be. Lucien had so much love to give.

"Happy doesn't quite cover it," he assured her.

Then the medical reality of the situation struck. "Have you seen a doctor?" he asked. "We need to take especially good care of you, make sure nothing goes wrong."

She again rested a hand on his cheek. "I'm healthy, I'm strong, and I have a wonderful doctor to watch over me," she assured him. "Nothing will go wrong - we won't let it."

He refused to allow anything to spoil their joy. "You're absolutely right. This new, wonderful adventure we'll share, and at the end of it, a new life."

"Yes," she smiled. "A new life we've made together, Lucien. I can hardly wait."


	2. Chapter 2

Lucien held his hands high as he stared down the barrel of the gun.

At several points in his life it would not have worried him much. He would have engaged the gunman in conversation, perhaps taunting or challenging him. But that was before Jean, before he had pledged his life to her and certainly before she had become pregnant with their baby. Now that she was due to deliver any day, he would do nothing to jeopardize their future together. How could he have known that merely walking into the Ballarat Bank would become a life-threatening experience?

He decided that his "caring country doctor" persona might be the best way to try to defuse the situation. After all, protecting life (everyone's, not just his own) had to be the top priority.

"Why don't we all take a breath?" he suggested. "No one needs to be hurt."

"Maybe somebody does need to get hurt," the masked gunman and would-be bank robber growled. He motioned with his shotgun for Lucien and the other patrons/hostages to move back against the wall.

Lucien decided he would wait to see how the situation played out. If the robber did not actively threaten lives, there was no reason for him to intervene.

From the corner of his eye he saw movement at the window. Dark blue movement with a flash of silver. It appeared the police were outside and aware of the situation. The smart move was to keep his head down and wait for help.

He had resigned himself to doing just that when suddenly the stakes changed. Agnes Clasby, indignant as only Agnes Clasby could be, emerged from the back room where the safety deposit vaults were kept.

"What's all this nonsense!" she demanded, walking right up to the gunman.

Thrown off-balance for a moment, nevertheless he pointed his gun directly at her. "Get over there with the others," he growled. "Go on or I'll blow your head off."

"You wouldn't dare, Walter Higham. What would your mother say, eh?" Agnes stood with her hands on her hips, facing him down.

The gun-toting Higham was furious that his identity had been exposed. He shoved the barrel of his shotgun against Agnes's collarbone and pushed forcefully, sending her stumbling backwards. She would have fallen had Lucien not leaped forward to catch her under her arms and set her upright. He flashed a look of disgust toward Mr. Higham then turned to make sure Agnes had not been injured.

Higham, fed up at not being taken seriously, swung his shotgun wildly. Its butt struck Lucien in the back of the skull, sending him to the floor, unconscious.

* * *

Despite being nearly nine months pregnant, Jean refused to give in to her condition. She insisted on cleaning her own home, preparing the meals and managing the surgery. Lucien had wanted to hire someone to come in to help her, but Jean argued that since it would be just as much work for her to train and supervise anyone to perform to the standards she required, she might as well just do it herself.

While dusting the parlor she glanced at the clock. Lucien had left for the bank to deposit the practice's income for the week, but that had been several hours ago, and surgery would be starting soon. She wondered if he had run into someone from the Police and gotten pulled into a case. Usually he would call to let her know of the change in plans, especially if it would impact surgery hours.

Just as she was thinking she might try calling the station or the morgue to track him down, the telephone rang.

"Blake residence," she announced into the receiver. It still made her proud that she now shared that name.

"Auntie Jean."

"Danny, have you seen Lucien?" she asked. "Surgery is due to start in forty-five minutes."

"That's why I'm calling," he said, stammering over his words.

Jean felt her blood run cold. "Tell me."

"Well, uh, there's kind of a bank robbery in progress," Danny began. "With at least a dozen hostages, and the doc, well..."

"He's one of the hostages?" Jean demanded. She loved her nephew but wished he would be more direct.

"Yeah. I'm sorry, Auntie Jean."

"Has he been hurt?"

"Um, well, you see..."

She interrupted him sharply. "Danny, is my husband all right?"

"Not really."

"Danny!"

"The nearest we can tell, he was struck in the head by the robber."

She took a deep breath, trying to contain her rising panic. "How bad is it?"

"We don't really know. We have someone looking in one of the windows when the suspect isn't watching. He says the doc is on the floor and there's some blood."

"I'm on my way," said Jean, her heart constricting and her hands beginning to tremble.

"In your condition maybe it would be better if you..."

Jean would not be dissuaded. "I'm on my way," she repeated. Her only thought was that Lucien needed her.

Scarcely aware of what she was doing, Jean put away her cleaning supplies, gathered her hat, handbag, and keys, then went outside. Just as she was locking the front door behind her, she heard a car pulling into the drive. Alice Harvey was at the wheel.

"I'm sorry, Alice, no time to talk."

"I know, Jean," replied her friend. "I just got the news. I'll drive you into town."

"I'm perfectly able to drive."

Alice reached out through the window to put a hand on Jean's forearm. "Lucien will never forgive me if I let you drive and anything happens to you."

Jean was about to argue further, but a twinge in her back stayed her words. Perhaps she wasn't in the best shape to drive after all. With an exaggerated sigh, she walked around to the passenger side and got into Alice's car.

"We'll go to the station first," Alice explained. "Get an update of the situation from Matthew."

* * *

Lucien came back to himself quickly, but the anxiety in the air made him cautious. He remained completely still as he took stock. The headache and the warm sticky wetness under his cheekbone that rested against the floor told him he had a head wound. Then he recalled where he was. The bank, a robbery in progress.

He cracked open an eyelid. He was facing the other hostages, who were all focused behind him where the gunman, Mr. Higham, must be. All of them except one.

Agnes was staring directly at him, a shocked and guilty look on her face. He opened his eyes a little wider and caught her gaze. He winked to let her know he was fine, then closed his eyes again. He was confident of her ability not to give the game away as he tried to formulate a plan to save them all. Now that he knew Higham was willing to harm them, waiting him out was no longer the best solution.

* * *

As Alice's car reached the station, Jean climbed out and rushed (or as she saw it, waddled) inside to Matthew's desk.

He stood quickly upon seeing her. "Jean, you shouldn't be here," he began.

She waved off his protest. "Danny said Lucien's been hurt."

"I'm afraid we don't know how badly just yet."

Matthew nodded to Danny, who moved a chair to just behind her so she could sit, but she shook her head and reached a hand to her lower back. What she really needed was Lucien and one of his lovely massages.

"What are you going to do?" she asked Matthew.

"We were considering just waiting until he tried to leave, but..."

"But with Lucien hurt and you don't know how badly, that's not an option," Jean finished for him. Her steely glare made Matthew look away.

"Right," he confirmed reluctantly. "Bill Hobart is the steadiest marksman I have. He's on the scene and will try to get the man through the window if there's a clear shot, but so far he hasn't had a chance that wouldn't risk hitting the hostages. I'm sorry, Jean."

She was about to give him a piece of her mind, insist he do _something,_ when the dull pain in her back became much sharper. With a soft cry, she lowered herself into the provided chair.

Alice, who had just entered the room after parking the car, hurried over. "Jean, are you all right?" she queried. She leaned in closer and spoke softly. "Are you having labour pains?"

"They've just started," Jean admitted. "It will be quite a while yet."

"Nevertheless, we need to get you to hospital. You know what Lucien said about the risks."

"But Lucien needs me. He..."

"He needs you to take the best possible care of yourself and this baby," Alice reminded her. "Besides, as soon as this... this incident, is resolved, he'll be taken to hospital himself to be checked. You'll be there waiting, won't you?"

Matthew stepped closer. "Alice is right, Jean. There's nothing you can do for him here."

Jean still hesitated. It didn't feel right. It was like abandoning Lucien, but really how could she help him? Matthew loved Lucien like a brother and would surely do everything necessary to rescue him and the others.

With an assist from Matthew, she stood up and straightened her clothing. "Very well," she said. "Matthew, I'm depending on you to bring my husband out of there safely. Don't disappoint me."

With Alice supporting her on one side and Danny on the other, she made her way slowly toward Alice's car.

* * *

Jean and the baby were weighing heavily on Lucien's mind as he played possum on the floor of the bank. He realized she had probably heard about his predicament by now and must be beside herself with worrying about him. That kind of anxiety wasn't good for her or the child she carried. He needed to find a way to end it quickly and safely.

Agnes must have had similar concerns. She spoke to the gunman. "You see that, Walter Higham," she said, pointing down at Lucien's inert form. "Not only is he a respected physician but he works with the police. You know how they rally for one of their own. If he dies, they'll move heaven and earth to see that his killer is brought to justice."

"You shut your mouth and let me think," Higham growled.

"You'd better do your thinking quickly before he bleeds to death right in front of you. Do you see all that blood?"

Knowing how much even minor head wounds tend to bleed, Lucien imagined that he presented a rather grisly sight. Listening closely, he could hear Higham coming up closer behind him, presumably to examine the damage. But not being able to see him without giving the game away, Lucien didn't know how he could overpower the man or get the drop on him. He needed the man to be in front of him to have any chance.

Agnes, as shrewd as she was, recognized the problem. "Just look at your handiwork. Proud of yourself, are you?" she prodded him.

"I told you to shut your trap, old woman," he shouted. And he came toward her. Perhaps some small sense of chivalry would not allow him to shoot an elderly lady. In any case, he was brandishing the shotgun like a club as he threatened her.

As soon as he came around the doctor's prone body with his finger nowhere near the gun's trigger, Lucien lunged. He caught Higham around the knees, pulling him off balance. Higham attempted to club him with the shotgun, but the other hostages saw their chance and rushed him. Two men managed to wrestle the weapon out of his hands, while several others bore him to the floor. A moment later Bill Hobart and two other policemen came through the door and took charge.

Lucien struggled to his feet, a bit light-headed but more concerned with seeing that Agnes and the others were unhurt.

"Don't be silly," she told him in her non-nonsense manner. "You see to yourself, Lucien."

Bill also came over to register his concern as soon as Higham was being escorted out of the building. "Let's get you over to the hospital, Doc," he said.

"I'm fine, Bill," Lucien insisted. "Nothing a little plaster won't handle, but thank you."

Matthew Lawson suddenly appeared behind Bill. "I may not have a medical degree, but even I can tell that's going to need stitches," he said. "Come on, Lucien. Besides, Jean is already on her way to hospital anyway."

That stopped his protest short. "What happened?" he demanded. "Is Jean all right?"

Matthew stared at him. "I think you know exactly what happened to her. About nine months ago. Ring any bells?"

"Is she...?"

Grinning, Matthew nodded. "Alice went with her. Now come along and let them patch you up before you scare her any more than she already is."

* * *

As Matthew had suggested, the sister guarding the entrance to the maternity wing refused to let Lucien enter until he had been tended to and cleaned up. After three stitches, a thorough washing up, and a surgical gown to cover the blood on his clothing, he was finally allowed to see his wife.

For her part, Jean had been requesting updates on the bank situation every five minutes since she'd been admitted to hospital. The obstetrician on duty said he hoped her labour pains would soon be as frequent as her inquiries.

She was threatening to go find Lucien herself when Alice brought her the news she'd been waiting for. "He's here," the pathologist assured her friend. "Well, here in the building, at least. I'm sure he'll be in to see you as soon as they patch him up. Don't worry, Jean. He came in under his own power."

Alice felt a pair of strong hands rest on her shoulders from behind, and flinched until she recognized the voice they belonged with.

"Thank you, Alice, for taking good care of her." And Lucien stepped around her to greet his wife.

"I'm glad to see you, Lucien. Now if you'll both excuse me." Alice disappeared from the room posthaste.

Jean's eyes were alight at the sight of her husband, especially as he seemed none the worse for wear. He quickly reached for her hands and bent down to kiss her.

"How are we doing, my darling?"

Jean frowned at him. "Considerably better, now that I know our baby will have a father around." She winced as another contraction gripped her.

Lucien also winced in sympathy. "I'm so sorry, love. But this time it was out of my control. I promise you, I did extricate myself as soon as I could. And I thought about you and our little one the whole time."

"And how are you? Really."

"Just a bit of a headache, nothing compared to what you're facing."

She gripped his hands tightly as yet another contraction began.

"Getting close now, are they?" he asked.

"We were just waiting on you," said Jean, stifling a groan.

The obstetrician, Doctor Young, returned to the room. After he and Lucien acknowledged each other, he asked how they were doing.

"I'm ready, and so is this baby," Jean told him. She had decided she would rather Lucien not deliver for her. She knew how he would react to seeing her in such pain, and she would rather not have to worry about him, especially in light of what he'd just been through.

"Well, then, Dad, if you'll step outside, hopefully you can return shortly to meet your child."

Reluctantly deferring to his wife's wishes, Lucien kissed Jean, resting a hand around her cheek. "I love you, my beautiful wife," he whispered. "I'll see you soon."

She managed a smile for him despite her pain. "I love you, too. We'll be here when you come back."

He kissed her again on her forehead and with a last smile for her, he left the room.

"Now then," she told Doctor Young, "let's get this over, shall we?"

* * *

Lucien paced back and forth from the moment he left that room. He wanted to be with her, _needed_ to be with her, but it wasn't about him, it was about Jean and what she needed. He had been a bloody selfish bastard for years after the war, he knew. Without Mei Lin and Li he had no one to care about except himself. But Jean had changed all that. With her in his life (and soon, their baby) he would do anything for his family. Including give Jean privacy, if that's what she requested. All he could hope, for both his and Jean's sakes, was that her labour would be swift and without incident. If there were complications he knew he would have to intervene.

He strode to the far end of the otherwise empty waiting room and suppressed the instinct to punch the wall. (There were times in his adult life when he regretted giving up boxing. It was an ideal way to release frustration.). As he turned swiftly to pace in the other direction, a wave of lightheadedness overcame him. He reached out blindly for a wall or chair - anything to keep him from keeling over. In a moment he felt a hand under his elbow and a body guiding him into a seat. He lowered his head as far as he could until the blood returned to his head properly.

He looked up to his benefactor. "Thank you, Alice."

Wearing a frown of concern, she said, "Lucien, are you sure you should be ambulatory? With a head wound like that, you must have lost a lot of blood, not to mention the risk of concussion."

"You, of all people, ought to know I have a hard head," he joked. "Seriously, Doctor Harvey, I've been through concussion protocol. No damage. You're right, though, I should probably be sitting down, but I feel like I'd be letting down the side, knowing what Jean is going through."

"Yes, well, I'm fairly certain Jean would prefer you take care of yourself. She'll need you more than ever once the little one is home."

Lucien couldn't help the smile that bloomed across his whole face. It was very real now. Shortly he would go in to see Jean with their baby! Their baby!

Alice was a little embarrassed at the depth of emotion he showed. She was used to men who were more... stoic. The only emotions they ever showed were anger or annoyance. She supposed that after the experiences he'd had in his past, Lucien probably appreciated the good in life more than most men. He and Jean deserved to be happy now.

He was still smiling when Doctor Young entered. The obstetrician nodded to Alice, but his attention was directed to Lucien who looked up anxiously. "Doctor?"

"As easy a birth as I've attended in a while. No complications whatsoever," he announced, reaching out a hand to congratulate the father. "The sister is just cleaning up the baby and Jean. Give them five minutes and you can go in."

"Thank you, Lewis, for taking care of them."

"No thanks needed. Jean did all the work. All I did was catch the baby and cut the cord," he chuckled. "Best wishes to you and your family."

Lucien would have begun pacing again, waiting for the five minutes to pass, if Alice hadn't literally restrained him with a hand on his shoulder. She wasn't good at small talk but tried her best.

"The doctor didn't say. Boy or girl, do you think?" she asked.

"I thought I'd quite like a girl, a miniature Jean, but she was certain it was a boy."

"A miniature you?" asked Alice. "Heaven help Jean with two of you to contend with."

"Indeed."

Before she had to come up with another conversational gambit, the sister appeared and motioned for Lucien. "Go on in," she said. "Your family is waiting."

* * *

Jean ran her fingers through her hair, trying to put it back into some semblance of normal despite the fact that it was still damp with perspiration.

"You look fine, Mrs. Blake," the nurse assured her, "especially considering you gave birth an hour ago. Now, are you ready for a cuddle with the little one?"

"Always," Jean smiled, reaching for her baby.

"And daddy is on his way in," the nurse said as she left the room.

Jean looked at the newborn, this beautiful child who was the product of the bond she and Lucien shared. Already her heart welled over with love for this tiny, perfect being.

She was gently rubbing her cheek against the downy head when she looked up to see the beloved face of her husband as he peeked around the door.

"May I come in?" he asked softly.

"Please do. We've been waiting for you, me and your son."

An enormous smile split has face even as tears rolled down his cheeks. She reached a hand out to him, and he took it between his own, kissing the palm before he leaned down to meet her lips.

"I love you, my dear, so much I sometimes think my heart will explode."

"I know the feeling well," she assured him.

"Hello, little man," he whispered, bending down to kiss the top of his tiny son's head.

The baby's eyes opened at the voice and seemed to stare, as if memorizing his father's face.

Lucien held out a finger for the him to grasp. "He's perfect, just like his mother. How are you feeling, my darling Jean?"

"I don't know if I've ever been happier," she admitted. She held the baby out to him, and when she saw his large hands cradling their tiny son, her own tears appeared. "Our miracle," she said, close to sobbing with the joy her family brought her.

"I am so proud of you," he told her in a shaky voice.

"Look at the pair of us," she said, mentally shaking herself. "If we keep this up our son will think all we do is weep."

"Right you are," said Lucien. "And that isn't us at all. Our son is going to have the happiest childhood any boy could want."

Jean nodded, knowing he was remembering the pain of his own childhood and vowing that their son's would be everything his was not.

"We can't keep calling him our baby or our son," she pointed out. "He needs a name."

"Anything come to mind?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact. I'd like to name him after the best man I know,"she said firmly.

"Oh? Well, yes, 'Matthew' is a good, solid name."

If she had had a cushion close at hand she would have thrown it at him. "Cheeky. Matthew Lawson is a fine man, but our boy will be Lucien Thomas Blake."

He winced. "No, Jean. Really. No boy should have to be constantly compared to his father. I know that all too well. And bearing the same name would only make it worse."

"Lucien, he will be compared to you in Ballarat no matter what. You are rather well known."

"Notorious, you mean," he corrected with a lopsided grin.

"Be that as it may, I really want this, Lucien. My Christopher was named for his father, and Jack is after my father. This one should be in honour of you and your father. Maybe we can settle on a nickname, to lessen the confusion and comparison."

"I was called 'Luke' by my friends at school," he said slowly. "They thought 'Lucien' a little too pretentious, if truth be told."

Jean reached for the baby, and Lucien placed him in her arms. She looked down at him as he looked up in the general direction of her face. "What do you think, little man? Lucien Thomas Blake, also known as Luke? I think it fits you perfectly, you and your lovely blue eyes." She nuzzled against him and he grunted.

"You see? He agrees," she said, smiling up at her husband. "A perfect name."

"For a perfect baby," said Lucien, leaning down to kiss her and whisper, "Thank you, my dear."


	3. Chapter 3

With Lucien due home any minute, Jean grabbed the kettle and went to the sink to fill it with water. She was humming happily; life was good. She had a wonderful husband she adored, and who likewise adored her. Her two older sons were finally settled, Christopher having been promoted and assigned to the Simpson Barracks near Melbourne for the foreseeable future, and Jack was seemingly content working on a cattle station in NSW and keeping company with a lovely young lady there.

And of course there was little Luke, the absolute light of his parents' lives. Nearly nine months old now and showing a real personality: sunny and bright most of the time, with just a touch of willfulness if things weren't as he thought they should be. She and Lucien laughingly blamed each other for that side of his nature.

As she closed the tap and prepared to turn toward the stove she felt a tug on the lower left leg of her trousers. She looked down and smiled at her little one who had just pulled himself into a standing position. Luke smiled back up at her, obviously proud of his newfound prowess. Over the last few days he had been pulling himself upright at every opportunity. Jean realized that all too soon he would be walking, and then there would be no stopping him, what with his limitless curiosity.

"Look at you," she cooed at him. "Something tells me it's time we did some baby proofing around here or our little man will be getting into all kinds of mischief, won't you, my darling boy?"

He babbled happily in response.

"Do you want to walk with me while I put the kettle on to boil? Your dad will be home soon."

Luke's eyes lit up even more. He recognized the word "dad" and knew that meant loads of kisses and cuddles. He let out a squeal, holding tightly to Jean's trouser leg as they moved slowly over to the stove. When she had put the kettle on, she leaned down to pick him up and proceeded to plant kisses all over his face until he was giggling with glee and patting her cheeks.

Lucien walked in. "Seems like I'm missing all the fun," he said, placing his hat on his son's much smaller head. When it fell over his face, Luke's laughing became even more uproarious. Jean and Lucien couldn't help joining in.

Lucien rested a hand on the hat as he leaned in to kiss Jean, then he took Luke into his arms and went to hang up the hat while Luke wrapped his arms around his dad's neck.

Jean watched them, her heart so full of love for her two men that she sometimes found it difficult to contain. After so many years of being on her own, she could never have imagined that she would find this kind of happiness. Her Church may have forced her out, but she still thanked God every day for the life she had now.

Lucien was holding a giggling Luke upside down when they came into the kitchen.

"All right, you two, sit down and have your lunch," Jean said, her voice stern but her eyes twinkling.

Luke quickly became an airplane as his father "flew" him to his high chair and strapped him in. He set to work on his sippy cup and apple slices, never losing his happy smile.

Jean kissed the top of his head before sliding into her chair. "How was your morning?" she asked her husband.

"Would have been better if it had started a little later," he growled. An early morning call had interrupted their amorous pursuits. "But the case was cut and dried, no loose ends so I should be here the rest of the day."

She smiled in delight. "And with no surgery today, maybe we might resume where we left off once this fellow goes down for his nap." She arched an eyebrow.

"What a splendid idea! How glad I am that I married a woman who's not only gorgeous and sexy, but smart." He leaned closer to Luke. "Your mum is a clever lady, son. That's why you're such a brilliant boy, isn't it?"

The baby bounced up and down as if in agreement, causing both parents to laugh.

"And that reminds me," said Jean. "Our brilliant boy is going to be walking before we know it. Today might be a good day to baby proof the house. Gates for the stairs and surgery, latches on the cupboard doors, that sort of thing. I think we have all the supplies in the garage. Baby gifts, mostly."

"Ah, yes, we have very practical friends, don't we?"

Jean nodded. "And who knows when you'll have another free afternoon."

* * *

With Luke close by to "supervise" his every move, Lucien made short work of putting up the spring-loaded gates at the foot of the stairs and across the doorway into the surgery area. He would have to thank Charlie Davis, who had the foresight to know they'd be needed and realized it was more practical to use ones that could be easily moved rather than permanently installed. Luke had been their little miracle but there would be no further need of the gates when he was older.

With the gates up, Lucien went into the kitchen to start on the cupboard latches while Jean finished the washing up from lunch. He looked at the diagram on the latch packaging and realized he'd need a screwdriver for this part of the job. He went toward the study where he kept a rudimentary toolbox: hammer, screwdriver, pliers, wrench.

He suddenly realized that Luke hadn't followed him to the kitchen, so he went looking for the baby. Luke had pulled himself upright on the surgery gate, looking none too pleased that his visits to his dad at work would be curtailed.

When he spotted Lucien coming toward him, his discontent seemed to be forgotten. He turned, letting go of his hold on the gate and teetering on his little feet.

"Jean," Lucien called softly. "You'll want to see this."

He crouched down a short distance from Luke and held out his arms.

Behind him Jean approached, drying her hands on her apron as she watched.

"Come on, little man," Lucien urged. "Come give your old dad a hug."

Luke gave him a big grin and was about to clap his hands, but it made his balance uncertain for a moment. Instead he frowned in concentration and focused on the outstretched hands of his father.

Lucien and Jean both held their breaths while he took three tentative steps then lunged forward into his father's arms. Lucien swept him up in hugs and kisses, as Jean added her own. They shared a smile, both with tears in their eyes.

"Our baby boy just became a toddler," said Lucien.

"Yes, he did, clever boy, and heaven help us," said Jean. She took him from Lucien and smothered his face with kisses as Luke laughed. Her eyes glazed over as she saw the future racing towards her: his first words, his first day at school, soccer games, girlfriends, driving a car, getting married...

Lucien knew just where her thoughts had gone. He leaned over to kiss her softly. "He's still only a baby," he reminded her gently. "We have many years to enjoy with him."

"Yes, of course you're right," she said.

She set Luke down on the floor. "Now, let's see you walk to your mum, sweetheart."


	4. Chapter 4

Lucien sat on the piano bench with little Luke on his lap. "What would you like to hear?" he asked the small boy. "Maybe one of your mum's favorites while she's making your very first birthday cake, eh?"

Luke bounced up and down. "Mmmmmm."

"Oh, you like mum's cake, do you? Well, young man, you have very good taste. She makes lovely cakes, your mum."

"Mmmmmm," Luke repeated.

"Yes, and her biscuits are also first rate, aren't they?"

This time Luke remained silent.

"Not a fan of her biscuits? I find that hard to believe. I've seen you devour mum's shortbread."

"Mmmmm," said Luke.

"So you agree after all." Lucien stopped to think for a moment, staring down at his young son. "Maybe it's not her baking after all. You just love your mum?"

"Mmmmmm," Luke agreed.

"Not her biscuits?"

Luke was silent.

"Mum?"

"Mmmmm," said Luke.

"Oh, you clever boy. Are you trying to say 'mum'?"

"Mmmmmm."

From the kitchen Jean called, "Where's the music you promised me?"

Luke again bounced on his father's lap. "Mmmmm. Mmmmm."

Lucien bent down to whisper to the small boy. "We'll keep it our secret until you can say the whole word, shall we?"

With Luke's "assistance" he began to play Beethoven's Für Elise.

* * *

Since he'd started walking, Luke's bedtime was a breeze. He tired himself out during the day and was only too willing to be put into his cot at night. As she lifted him in, Jean couldn't help but wonder how long it would be now before he started climbing out by himself. She sighed, remembering how Jack had managed to fall from atop the rail, breaking his little arm. Ever the rebel, her Jack.

She kissed the top of Luke's head and ran her fingers lovingly over his golden curls. "Did you enjoy the story your dad read to you, my sweet boy?" she asked him softly.

Lucien had begun reading Winnie the Pooh to him in the evenings before bedtime.

"Dududud," Luke said tiredly.

Jean smiled down at him. "I hope that means yes. Dad will be disappointed if you don't like reading."

"Dududud," Luke said again.

"Are you trying to say 'dad'?" she asked him in a whisper. "You darling boy, won't your dad be thrilled if that's your first word. Dad," she repeated.

"Dududud," said Luke, around a big yawn.

"All right, love, go to sleep. We'll try again tomorrow."

She tiptoed out of the room, hoping she could get him to repeat it for Lucien in the morning.

* * *

In the morning Lucien was out to visit a death scene before Luke even woke up. He hated not seeing his little boy in the morning, but sometimes it couldn't be avoided.

While he was gone, Jean got Luke up, bathed and dressed, and into his high chair for breakfast. She tried to get him to say 'dad' again but the baby was more interested in his toast and scrambled egg. He smiled happily but silently at his mother. When he was finished, she cleaned him off and put him on the floor with his wooden blocks while she did the washing up.

* * *

Lucien returned shortly after, since the autopsy showed the death had been natural causes.

Hearing the door, Luke quickly climbed to his feet and toddled off to greet his father.

"Good morning, young man," said Lucien, swinging him up into his arms for some kisses and hugs. "Shall we go say hello to mum?"

He waited for Luke to respond, but the boy merely gave his father some wet kisses and giggled when the beard brushed his tender cheek.

"Not talking this morning?" Lucien whispered. When Luke didn't respond he tickled him instead as he walked into the kitchen to kiss Jean.

* * *

All through the day whenever they were alone with the baby, Jean and Lucien tried to coach him, each wanting to give the other the pleasure of hearing his first word. But Luke had other plans. He even seemed to forego his usual wordless babbling.

By the time dinner was over and the washing up finished, they had separately decided not to press him further. Apparently Luke would speak when he was good and ready.

As bedtime approached, Jean changed him into his pyjamas and handed him over to Lucien for their nightly read while she picked up her knitting and sat across from them. Lucien kissed the top of the boy's head before opening the illustrated A.A. Milne storybook.

Luke patted the illustration of the round yellow bear with his pot of honey. "Pooh," he said.

Jean and Lucien stared at each other in shock.

"What's that, son?" Lucien asked, wanting to be sure it wasn't just a nonsense word.

Again Luke patted the page. "Pooh," he said, looking up at his father.

"Yes, indeed, that's Pooh," he laughed.

Jean joined in, putting her knitting aside and stepping over to kiss her clever boy. "He's certainly a Blake," she told Lucien. "His first word is a literary reference."

"And here I've been trying to get him to say 'mum' all day," Lucien chuckled.

"Really? I've been working with him to say 'dad'," Jean told him.

"I guess he didn't want to play favorites. Our son may have a future as a diplomat."

Jean smiled down at her son as she combed her fingers through his locks. "More than likely he's just inherited his father's kindness."

"Or his mother's generosity of spirit."

Luke merely patted the book more forcefully. "Pooh!"

Laughing, Jean said, "Definitely his father's lack of patience."

Lucien smirked at her, before lifting the book up. "Now, where we were. Ah, yes, Pooh."


	5. Chapter 5

"Does school start tomorrow, Mum?" asked Luke as he pulled the covers up to his chin. He had been asking the same question for the last three days, ever since Jean had ironed and hung his school uniform in his wardrobe. He could hardly wait.

"Yes, darling, tomorrow," she confirmed.

"What will we learn tomorrow?" he asked.

Jean smiled and tucked the covers more closely around him before kissing his cheek. "I'm afraid my first day of school was a very long time ago so I don't remember what we learned. But that's one of the reasons it's fun to go to school each day - to find out what you're going to learn."

"Did you like school, Mum?"

"I loved school, and I'm sure you will, too. Now time to sleep so you'll be well rested and ready to learn in the morning."

"Good night, Mum. I love you."

"I love you, too, sweet boy. Sleep well."

She closed the door softly on her way out, then continued down the hall to the study where Lucien was poring over his medical books for information on unusual symptoms a patient had presented with earlier in the day.

He looked up and smiled softly at her, causing her heart to do that tumbling thing only he could cause. "All tucked in?" he asked.

"Yes, but he's so excited about school. I hope we chose the right one for him."

"I'm sure he'll be fine," said Lucien. They had visited every primary school in Ballarat, and Mount Pleasant seemed to be the best fit for the kind of education and atmosphere they wanted for their boy. "I think our biggest worry might be that he's bored, but if that seems to be the case we can speak with his teacher and the principal."

"Do you think the other kids will pick on him? After all the gossip we've endured over the years, I couldn't stand it if this town treated him badly."

He stood up and moved out from behind the desk to take her hands and pull her to him. "My darling, these are four- and five-year-olds. They can't even spell 'gossip'. I'm afraid if he gets picked on for anything, it might be his hair."

Jean gasped. "All his beautiful golden curls? Is that why you've been suggesting a haircut for him?"

"I took some teasing for a similar head of hair, before my dear father insisted I cut it off," Lucien admitted. "But that was a long time ago, so maybe styles have changed." He leaned closer. "When I got to secondary school, the girls seemed to love the curls," he smirked.

Jean laughed and ran her fingers through the hair at the back of his neck where the Brylcreem was wearing off at the end of the day. "And now I'm the only 'girl' that gets to see your lovely curls," she whispered, leaning in to kiss him.

"Which is as it should be, love," he told her as his lips met hers.

* * *

Luke fairly bounced into the kitchen in the morning, already wearing his uniform. He walked over to Jean at the stove and gave her a hug, then over to where Lucien was reading the morning newspaper and wrapped an arm around his shoulders.

"Good morning," Jean said cheerily.

"How's my favourite scholar this morning?" asked Lucien.

Luke grinned, at his father, then looked thoughtful. "Will I know anyone at school?" he asked.

"I'm sure you will," said Jean, thinking of all the children he'd met when they accompanied their parents who were on Lucien's list.

"And think of it this way," Lucien suggested. "All of the children in your class can be friends, even if you didn't know them before."

"Dad's right," Jean said, placing the plate of bacon and tomatoes on the table, then reaching down to straighten Luke's collar. "Just remember to be kind and thoughtful of others. There may be other children who are frightened or upset when their parents leave them today, so it might be nice if you went out of your way to talk to them, try to make them feel better."

"All right," said Luke, slowly.

Jean hoped that looking out for others would distract him from any issues he might have when she and Lucien left him. Somehow, though, she felt sure that she was going to be more upset at the situation than Luke himself would be.

* * *

Lucien pulled into the car park, then opened the door for Luke and helped Jean out. They had taken Luke with them on their initial visit to Mount Pleasant so he confidently led the way to the prep classroom. Lucien smiled proudly, but when he glanced at Jean he noted the tears already forming in her eyes. He reached over to take her hand and squeezed it in sympathy. Their "little miracle" was growing up too fast.

When they reached the classroom and Luke saw the mass of parents and children congregated therein, his confidence seemed to slip a little, and he moved closer to his parents. Lucien rested a comforting hand on his shoulder while Jean reached down to give him a hug.

The teacher, Mrs. French, was circulating throughout the room to welcome everyone. Jean knew that she had two sons of her own in secondary school, so she could empathize with the parents who would be leaving their little ones in her care.

When she reached the Blake family she greeted Luke first, and then Jean and Lucien.

"He's been looking forward to this day for ages," Jean said.

Mrs. French smiled at Luke. "That's what we like here, eager students,"she told him. "Perhaps you'd like to find a desk for yourself, Luke?"

The boy nodded and started forward, then turned back. "Bye, Mum. Bye, Dad."

Jean held out her arms for one last hug, which Luke obligingly gave her. "You mind what Mrs. French says. We'll be waiting for you outside when school is over, right?"

"Yes, Mum."

Lucien fought the urge to tell Luke to do his best, as his own father had said to him so often. Instead he gave him his own hug and whispered, "Be kind to everyone and you'll do just fine, son."

"I will, Dad."

He marched off to look for a desk and found one near the front that seemed to be empty so he slid into the chair. He was waiting patiently for whatever came next when he heard sniffling behind him. Another boy was seated at the desk directly in back of him, but this boy had his arms crossed on the desktop and his face hidden in them as he cried quietly.

"What's wrong?" Luke asked softly so as not to startle the boy.

The boy looked up to see who had spoken. He rubbed at his eyes. "I don't like school," he said. "I don't know anybody."

"I'm Luke Blake. There, now you know me," Luke said, smiling at him and sticking out his hand.

Somewhat hesitantly the other boy shook the hand. "I'm Ben Baker."

"Maybe we could be friends," said Luke.

"All right," Ben agreed.

Luke looked around and saw a bookcase stuffed with children's literature, including one book that he recognized as Paddington Bear. "Maybe we could read a story together," he suggested to Ben.

"Can you read? Mum says I have to come to school to learn to read."

"I read with my dad before bed," Luke explained. "Maybe I can help you."

He took the book from its shelf, and moments later the two small heads were bent over it together while Luke pointed out the words as he read them.

Jean and Lucien had been watching the entire exchange.

"You see? He'll be fine," Lucien said softly, his arm around her waist.

She smiled through her tears. They had protected, nurtured and moulded him for five years. Now, putting him into another's hands, even someone as caring and competent as Loretta French, was not easy. Jean knew as well as anyone that the world was not always kind, especially to those with tender hearts.

Lucien understood her fears, as he always seemed to, since their marriage. "He'll remember what we've taught him. And do you know what I think? I think he'll make his world a kinder place just by his presence. Isn't that what we want for him?"

She rested her head against his shoulder for just a moment before accepting his handkerchief to dry her eyes. "Let's go home and leave him to it then," she said firmly.

Hand in hand, with only a single backward glance from each of them, they left their son to begin his march into the future.


End file.
